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by Dan Anderson Sex Tips for Gay Guys, by Dan Anderson, St. Martin's Press, 231 pages, $22.95
Having been the co-author of the same publisher's earliest book that was chock full of advice about male/male relations (1974)—the first book, in fact, ever published that was filled with authentic letters from gay men everywhere— I'll tip-toe carefully, I decide, while I review my old publisher's 2001 foray into Gay-Male Dear Abby-style-publishing. Instead of damning this book outright—which, after a brief scan—seemed a reasonable course, I will—instead--give its author the very same kind of chance to introduce himself to me that I might give him after meeting him in a bar. Yes, after feeling initially at ease with him, and allowing him thereafter to rant in my ear while hoping he continues to seem as though he knows what he's talking about doing his best-foot-forward rap dance on my behalf. One of the first odd things that occurred to me as I considered his book was its gimmick-like nature. Dan's earlier book, Sex Tips for Straight Women from a Gay Man, had been something of a seller and now—book #2 in his series has been directed at gay men alone. Everybody in magazine publishing knows, after all, that “How to Make Him Your Sex Slave” articles—like those spun out in profusion by Helen Gurley Brown's Cosmopolitan, are aimed at a not-uncommon kind of consumer consciousness. Your possessions actually become you— in this unexciting object-oriented realm.
And here—almost—I'm on the edge of being captivated. Dan is pure wisdom when he announces: “Your adventurous spirit is what makes you the charming, witty, highly evolved gay guy that you fully deserve to be. So seize the day.” But then, suddenly, he advises: “When opportunity knocks, throw open that door with a big Hollywood hello and a highball in your hand.” Hmmm. A highball prop, eh? Suddenly I'm remembering the item on Dan's cartoon cover, between the two cruisers…the author's cement for good sex. It's not a highball, however, it's just a beer. On page 4 of the intro, author Dan shamelessly admits that the collective wisdom he's put into his book is from a number of guys who've “definitely been around the block a few times.” They are mainly he allows, “a bunch of booze-swilling, bed-hopping past or present party boys.” Booze swilling is listed first. I'm getting suspicious. At this point, I've almost agreed with myself not to go home with author Dan. He's making me remember, somehow, a 1960s play/movie, The Boys in the Band, and thinking about how cocktails influenced the gay party it portrayed. Not pretty. I focus on a quote from Genre magazine that makes me wonder if Dan's advice from “booze-swilling, bed-hopping party boys” can really be made as relevant as the Genre reviewer thinks it is when he writes: “This light hearted, informative read would make an excellent high school graduation gift for that special nephew…” Well, well. Lets hop over to Homoland with our special nephew, shall we? Chapter one, after all, is titled “Welcome to Homoland.” We're told that Homoland's “open for business and your table is ready.” A weird kind of sales pitch explains that “everyone has a home in Homoland.” Nice sentiment, I suppose, but somehow it sounds like a line out of The Loved One, about a graveyard, perhaps. Immediately following, author Dan launches into his very first personal-exposure story. He was on his way to visit Miss Amy: “We decided to pop for a cocktail before the drive. Needless to say, one cocktail turned into three or four, and we were soon talking about how nice it would be to bake on a beach with an endless supply of margaritas.” Now I'm an old-fashioned hippie, I must admit, but all this booze seems somehow even more old-fashioned. On Dan's very next page he's already in Ft. Lauderdale and I discover the author saying: “The little poolside bar had a dishy bartender named Patsy who seemed to have the dirt on everybody and who kept us in cocktails for most of the afternoon.” “Oh, great,” I say, deciding secretly to give Dan only a minute or two more of my precious time. Would my nephew really benefit at hearing Dan recall: “the most important issue of the day was which bar to start the evening's activities in.” Its OK in Dan's book to be drunk if you're no older than twenty-five. Falling flat on your ass can be “cute” he appears to think, as long as you're a semi-twink. Instead of recommending the absorption of decent perspectives on which a young'un can grow, he writes, confusingly, as if sex is only for the young: “Another good reason to earn your sexual stripes when you're young is that you can get away with all sorts of behaviors that will prove unacceptable after the age of twenty-five.” He gives young'uns carte blanche to behave abominably: “Guys don't expect you to call when you take their number, so you need not feel guilty when you don't.” But once again—the item—the alcohol—comes into being just as author Dan gets to the crux of things: “You can even, at times, overindulge and get away with it. Let's face it, a falling down drunk at twenty-three can still be attractive, but when you're thirty five, it's just messy.” Not, Dan, its messy when you're twenty-three too. Unless, of course, you're only confident of scoring with this drunken-young-un because, thank goodness, he's drunk. Dan explains how if you have a cruising partner, he or she will tell you the worst about your amorous choices. Your cruising partner he dubs “Your Partner in Crime.” That's very fifties, says I. But now I must sit still until Dan tells me what such partners in crime do best. His friend Eddie had a partner named Greta, he says, and “she valiantly drove the forty-five minutes to pick him up when he got stranded at a suburban bar.” BUT: “Unfortunately, Eddie fell asleep in the bushes while waiting for her to arrive, and not finding him, poor Greta went home. Eddie woke up, called her again, and miraculously, she drove all the way back, fished out his house keys, and dragged his drunk ass home. A true partner in crime if ever there was one.” I'm finding myself sputtering: “Dan, I really have to go.” I excuse myself to take a leak, leaving this comic sex genius to finish off another margarita. |
The retro-50's cover on this tome shows two cartoonish bar patrons focussing on
each other's assets. Between them there's a single item that seems to speak directly to
the author's foremost idea of what's needed most to insure they have primo sex. I'll get to
that shortly.
© 1997-2002 BEI